Talking
by kate98
Summary: A torture worse than Ba'al: Jack couldn't stop talking if he tried. (PG13 on the side of caution. The only objectionable material is a few barely-curse words.)
1. With Daniel

Disclaimer: Insert standard "I own nothing" speech here.

A/N: FLUFF WARNING. This is major S/J fluff. It's cotton ball fluffy. It's cotton candy fluffy. It's little fluffy kitty fluffy. Set in season eight, and reflecting what I wish to happen.

* * *

**Talking**

Brightman had found the cause, but too late. It was a contagion SG-11 brought back from P3X-5JY. It took quite a while to realize there _was_ a problem since the physical symptoms were so mild. It began with a low-grade temperature and progressed to dizziness, but the worst of it was not immediately recognizable as medical in origin. The virus gave you a severe case of logorrhea.

All over the base, people couldn't stop talking. In the beginning, they thought McGinty, Darwin, and Joyner - the first affected - were drunk. They were spilling secrets left and right. But as the contagious nature of the problem became apparent, General O'Neill had immediately ordered the base on lockdown, lest the staff of the SGC go announce to the world at large what went on under the mountain and through the 'gate, (to Grandmother's house we go).

The General's next matter of concern was not getting infected himself. Despite the high-level clearance held by most of the SGC staff, there were still many things in his past that no one needed to know. He locked himself in his office, and only communicated by phone. Unfortunately, the incubation period of the contagion was long enough that he found he was already infected. He discovered this at the end of a long telephone conversation with Dr. Brightman, during which he'd ended up telling her every way in which she was unlike Dr. Frasier.

There was a knock on the General's door. "Go away!" he yelled. "I'm not talking to anyone, because I can't stop talking, and if I can't stop talking I might say something I shouldn't say. So go away and call me on the phone and then I'll talk to you, because at least I can hang up if I find myself running on at the mouth." Jack stopped yelling, but continued to mutter to himself.

"Jack, it's me, Daniel. I need to talk to you. I really do, so can I please come in? I promise I'll be talking too much for you to possibly say something that you shouldn't."

"Well, Daniel, when you put it like that, I can't see why not. I have to say that's very logical. You always drone on and on. Who better to talk to? I'll never get a word in edgewise." He opened the door and let Daniel in.

"That is _so _not flattering, Jack. But then, you seldom are flattering, are you? It's a rare occasion when you actually say something nice to someone. You're just cranky. Of course, you have good reasons to be cranky. You have a very stressful job now. And the woman you love is marrying someone else."

"Daniel, what did you want to talk to me about?" Jack asked with a great deal of restraint. His brain was ready to pick up that line of thought so his mouth could run with it. There was no one he could talk to about his feelings for Sam, and sometimes that burden was too much. He'd better get Daniel back on topic quick.

"That_ is_ what I wanted to talk to you about." Jack was incredulous as Daniel began to ramble on. "Jack, you really have to do something about this situation. It's making you miserable, and despite what Sam says, I don't think she's happy either. This guy Pete, well, he's really creepy, don't you think?"

"I thought you liked him," Jack interjected, helpless to stop himself.

"I tried to like him for Sam's sake. And he did help Sam find me when I was kidnapped by the NID. Thanks for not shooting me, by the way; I know it was really stupid not to tell you where I was going when they contacted me. I was really afraid of what you were going to do to me when I got back. I was tempted to tell them to take me with them. You can be pretty frightening, you know. I tried to get away from them, but they had snipers. Tragic, really -- a waste of perfectly good coffee."

Jack celebrated this accidental change of topic and tried to think of a way to carry on with it, but his brain was still stuck on Sam. "Carter makes the worst coffee, doesn't she? It's almost undrinkable, but of course, we drink it anyway. You, because you are a coffee addict, and me, because I don't want to hurt her feelings. Also, because it is nice to know there is something she doesn't do well. Other than that, she's pretty much perfect."

"See?" Daniel interrupted, much to Jack's relief. Talking about feelings was always uncomfortable for him, but being unable to stop talking about them was worse. Daniel continued, "That's just what I mean. You love her so much, you don't even see how incredibly flawed she is. She's been toying with your heart for years. I know she didn't mean any harm, but still, she's hurt you. And she's very arrogant about her intelligence. But that's not the worst of it. Have you seen her wardrobe outside of work? She needs a style makeover, my friend. It's time to call in Stacy and Clinton."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Stacy and Clinton. They're fashion stylists on this show..."

"I know that. I meant the other thing."

"You _know_ that? You watch What Not to Wear?"

Jack growled in frustration. "Brightman had better find a cure for this quickly. I never should have let you in here. And only because Stacy is hot. But what the hell are you talking about, she's been toying with my heart for years? That's ridiculous. Carter's been nothing but professional."

"That's not true! You just can't see it. She's always kept things just personal enough between the two of you to keep you hanging on. Is it professional for her to always run to _you_ for comfort? To allow so much physical contact between the two of you? And she's flirted with you since day one. Haven't you noticed she doesn't look or smile at anyone else the same way she does at you? I'm not saying she's using you. I know she really loves you. But she's been extremely unfair to you, Jack."

"That's crap, Daniel. I could just as easily have put a stop to all those things, but I was selfish. I wanted her attention; I wanted her to care for me. I should have distanced myself. If anything, the whole situation has been unfair to her. If it weren't for me, she might be married with kids by now."

"If it weren't for misplaced priorities, you might have kids together by now. It's silly, Jack. You love her, she loves you, and don't tell me about any stupid regulations. If you'd really wanted to, you could have dealt with that situation long ago. You are scared. Big, tough Jack O'Neill is scared to death. And you can unclench that fist right now. You know I can't stop talking, so if you hit me you're going to feel guilty as sin tomorrow. And I'm really glad you're a victim of Catholic guilt, because trust me, I don't want you to hit me again. Remember when you attacked me because you thought I was coming on to Sam, the time you had that alien virus? I've been in car accidents that had less impact. You've got one heck of punch. You'd make a good boxer. I secretly like boxing."

Jack sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face as Daniel continued to ramble. Why on Earth had he agreed to let him in? Daniel was the most touchy-feely, emotion-loving, just-this-side-of-girly guy he knew, and he should have had the sense to see where this was going to end up. Breaking this taboo was worse than spilling classified secrets. He'd rather be talking about what he did in Nicaragua.

"But that's just how I feel about it. What do you think?" Daniel asked.

"I wasn't listening to a word you said," Jack replied honestly, since he couldn't do otherwise.

"Never mind it. Why don't you just admit you are in love with Sam and you don't want to see her marry Pete? Why don't you just go say that to her? This is a good idea. Go. Go right now, Jack. No time like the present."

"Daniel, get out of my office. Please. I never should have let you in here in the first place." Daniel didn't move and Jack couldn't restrain himself from answering. "I can't do that. I've wanted to do that a thousand times, but I can't. That would be wrong. She's made her decision. And you're right, I'm scared to death. There's so much that she doesn't know about me, that no one knows about me. I'm not who people think I am."

"Things like what? Bad things you've done? We all know you've done bad things, Jack. But you're a good guy."

"No, not that. Sam's a soldier; she understands what soldiers have to do. But...no," Jack couldn't let himself say it, but he couldn't control the urge to speak. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no..." he continued.

Daniel laughed, and spoke loudly over Jack's chanting. "You mean 'the real Jack O'Neill.' The one who watches What Not to Wear, listens to opera, and volunteers at the children's theatre workshop?" Daniel bit back a laugh at Jack's abrupt silence and aghast expression. "We know you aren't Rambo. Though the What Not to Wear thing did come as quite a surprise."

"One you will not repeat to anyone," Jack said with a threatening glare. "You are taking advantage of my situation. You know there's no way we'd be having this discussion if it weren't for this damned virus. You came here for this express purpose."

"You make that sound like an accusation. Of course, I did. Do you think I could let an opportunity like this pass? Don't you think I've learned anything from you? You strike while the enemy is at their weakest! Not that you're my enemy. In fact, you're the closest thing to family I have. You're like a brother to me. A big, angry brother. That's why this bothers me so much, Jack. I've respected your boundaries and been quiet about it for years, but I don't like watching you suffer."

"Hah! You're making me suffer right now! This is suffering, pal! I hate talking about this stuff, even with you, and I usually secretly enjoy talking to you. Ack! Damn it, Daniel, if you won't leave I will." Jack got up and stormed out the door, muttering. Daniel just caught the words 'bratty little brother' before he was down the hall and out of hearing.


	2. With Teal'c

Jack was wandering aimlessly around the SGC, trying to avoid conversation. Rounding a corner at the end of a hall, Jack narrowly avoided a collision between his head and Siler's giant wrench. "Watch where you are going with that thing, Siler. In fact, where are you going with that thing? For what reason could you possibly need a wrench that size? Where do you even get a wrench that size?"

"Infected, Sir?" Siler asked.

Jack groaned and kept walking, talking to himself. "Unbelievable. It would figure the ones you can't pry information out of with a crowbar wouldn't have come down with this. I bet Teal'c is conveniently immune. Teal'c! Hey, that's a fantastic idea. I'll go hang out with my buddy Teal'c. Definitely the safest place to be."

Jack turned back down the corridor towards the elevators, ignoring the fast-approaching footsteps behind him. "General, Sir," the creator of the footsteps called after him, but Jack refused to stop. Walter caught up with him anyway. "Sir, you aren't in your office."

"Really? Maybe you should go back and check, just to be certain."

"You dish out a lot of abuse, General. But that's okay. I know you really depend on me. I've learned to anticipate your orders and stay one step ahead. I'm really proud of our great working relationship. We're kind of like Henry Blake and Radar O'Reilly, don't you think? Me being Radar, of course. In fact, you could call me Radar if you liked, Sir. You know, his first name was Walter, too!"

"Walter!" he interrupted, coming to an abrupt halt. "Was there something you actually needed, or is this another ambush?"

"Ambush, Sir?" Walter looked confused. Jack started chanting 'no' under his breath to keep his brain occupied. "No, General. I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Brightman feels she's made some progress in identifying the mechanism of the contagion, so she is one step closer to finding a treatment. She called your office, Sir, but you weren't there. So, I came looking for you. I said to myself, the General was determined not to leave his office, so only a strong inducement would get him to go. That's why I thought to come look for you at Colonel Carter's lab. Now, talk about a working relationship! You two have a sixth sense. I've never seen two people click so well. It's like you're telepathic."

"I was not headed to Colonel Carter's lab," Jack said indignantly. "I was wandering aimlessly. You just happened upon me in the wrong place at the wrong time. Colonel Carter is not telepathic either, and boy, am I glad for that. I'd be in giant trouble if she...no no no no no no no no no..." He marched towards the elevators, chanting furiously.

Jack made it to Teal'c's quarters without being accosted by any more chatty airmen, and was happy to find Teal'c within, quietly meditating. "T, I need a safe place to hide. Unfortunately, in my current state, I'm bound to disrupt your meditation. I hope you don't mind."

"I do not mind, O'Neill."

"Thanks, buddy. I'll do my best to keep it down. It's extremely difficult right now, but I've developed a little technique that helps." He returned to chanting quietly.

After a few minutes, Teal'c put out his candles and pulled up a chair next to Jack. "Humans are very strange beings, O'Neill. I am afraid I will never understand them."

"No no no no no no no no. I know we're all acting a little stranger than usual today, Teal'c, but you seem to have adapted to us pretty well. No no no no no no no no."

"I have not. I don't know if I shall ever adapt. Why do humans contort their faces so? I am at a loss to understand the need for all these 'expressions' when simple words will suffice to convey one's meaning. How is one to learn the difference between a smile, a grin, a smirk, and a leer? Why does one frown, pout, grimace, or sneer? Not to mention all the expressions of confusion or disgust, and those involved in the human ritual of flirting."

"You're infected aren't you?"

"I do not know, O'Neill. Why do you suppose it to be so?"

"Because that is the greatest number of sentences I've ever heard you string together. Granted, you are still talking half as much as anyone else on this base, except Siler."

"Right there," Teal'c pointed forcefully at Jack's face. "When you said 'Siler,' was that a grimace, a frown, or a look of disgust?"

Jack sighed. "All three, Teal'c."

"How am I ever to decipher this complicated form of language? Nor is it the only non-verbal form of language you humans employ. The so-called 'body language' involves gestures and postures, as well. And then, of course, there is the non-verbal communication technique you employ with Colonel Carter."

"Why can't anyone leave the subject of Carter alone?" Jack said with a facial contortion of his own.

"Eye-rolling. A gesture of frustration and disbelief. That gesture I have had much opportunity to observe and learn, during SG-1's mission briefings. Why should discussion of Colonel Carter make you frustrated, O'Neill? Have you had a falling out? Are you not aware of the non-verbal communication you share? I find it most interesting. You stare into one another's eyes with varying degrees of intensity, and somehow manage to communicate your thoughts. At first I wondered if you were blinking a code of some sort, but Daniel Jackson assured me that this was not the case. He says this form of communication is a rare gift among your people."

Jack jumped at a new avenue for conversation. "Daniel, huh? Daniel is the one I've had the falling out with. He attacked me earlier. Well, okay, not exactly attacked, but he made me extremely uncomfortable on purpose."

"In what way did he cause you discomfort?"

"For one thing, he insisted on coming in my office, even though he knew I couldn't stop talking. And he got all mushy on me. He told me I was like a brother to him."

"I have said the same to you, O'Neill. Did you consider that an attack?"

"It's not the same. We were about to die. It's normal to get mushy when you're about to die. But when you're safe and sound in your nice cozy office, it's just girly."

"Humans are very strange beings. Very strange indeed." Teal'c was quiet for a few minutes and Jack resumed his speech-abeyance technique. "Why does your government not reveal the existence of the Stargate to the population of your planet?"

"We've discussed this, Teal'c. The government doesn't feel that the people are ready."

"Yet, your planet is so violent. Could the energy invested in killing one another not be better used in fighting the Goa'uld?"

"I don't make those kind of decisions. I try not to even think about it. Sure, life would be much easier if we didn't have to keep so many secrets, but that's just not the way the political structures on Earth work. One of these days, things will change."

"When that day comes, you shall be honored as a great warrior among your people, O'Neill, and justly so."

"Aww, now don't you go getting all mushy on me, Teal'c. Between Daniel and Walter, I've had enough relationship talk for the day. Let's talk about Star Wars."

"These films are master works of Tauri culture. Great warriors fighting epic battles against evil overlords. Do they not remind you of our battle against the Goa'uld? Do you not think there are tremendous parallels? Daniel is like young Luke Skywalker, learning to be a warrior to avenge the death of the only family he had, and seeking a higher spiritual connection. You are like Han Solo, the reluctant hero -- independent, but with a strong sense of duty to your friends. Colonel Carter has much in common with the beauty and intelligence of Princess Leia."

"What does that make you? Chewbacca?"

Teal'c smiled with deep self-satisfaction. "Mace Windu."

Jack smiled back. "Humans aren't the only strange beings in this galaxy, Teal'c."

The sarcasm was lost on Teal'c. "We have encountered a great number of strange beings."

"Yes. Yes, we have," Jack said with resignation.

"Human mating customs are also incomprehensible to me. Why do humans hesitate to express their feelings for one another?"

"Not you, too. Sometimes other things stand in the way. There's nothing that can be done."

"Yet, this was not the case with Daniel Jackson and Dr. Frasier. They did not share their feelings for one another. They hesitated until it was too late. Why?"

Relieved, Jack took a moment to actually put some thought into the subject. "Daniel has spent a lifetime losing people he loves, and Janet had been through a bitter divorce and had a child's welfare to consider, too. They were both scared of getting hurt again. That's a problem a lot of adults face in starting relationships. That's what we call baggage."

"It is unfortunate. They could have had happiness together in the time they had, if only they had taken the risk. Now, the opportunity has passed. It gives me great sorrow to think of it. I hope I shall not have the same sorrow in years to come when I think of you, O'Neill."

"My opportunities have already passed, Teal'c. I had a few good years, a happy family. That will have to be enough."

"I do not believe it is too late for you and Colonel Carter."

"Do I have an 'Ask Me About My Second in Command' bumper sticker on my ass?" Jack groaned. "She's engaged to another man, and the regulations haven't changed. I'd say it's too late."

"As long as you and she still love one another, and as long as you live, it will not be too late. But our path is a dangerous one, O'Neill. You should take your happiness while you can."

Jack stood up abruptly. "Well, T, thank you for this enlightening conversation. I now know that the entire base is conspiring against me today. I think I'll go find a nice quiet broom closet to lock myself in until Brightman comes up with a cure."

"I miss Ishta."

"I can tell."


	3. With Desperation

Jack left Teal'c's room with no idea of where to go. He was starving, but the sheer number of people in the commissary who might try to talk to him was a deterrent. All this talking was draining, no less because of the emotional content of the discussion for him. Perhaps a nap was in order. He headed for his quarters.

"General! General! Can I speak to you for a minute?" Felger was at the other end of the corridor with an eager expression on his face. Jack walked right past his quarters, around the corner, and made for the elevator at full speed. By the time the doors opened, Felger was hot on his heels. Jack dove through the door as it opened, mashing all the buttons repeatedly. He smiled in relief as the doors slid shut before the scientist could reach them.

"Hi, Sir."

Jack hung his head in defeat. This was a fate worse than Felger. "No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no."

"General? Are you okay?"

"No, Carter. I am not okay. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no."

"Sir, do we need to go to the infirmary?" Sam reached out and punched the appropriate button, and the elevator came to a grinding halt.

Jack groaned. Now he knew not only was the staff on base conspiring against him, but the base itself was in on it, too. His chanting grew louder and more desperate.

"Guess that was one button too many," Carter said, noting the panel that was lit up like a Christmas tree from O'Neill's frenzy to evade Felger. She reached for the phone. "Hello, this is Lt. Colonel Carter... Yes... Really? That's very kind... Thank you, I'll keep that in mind... No..."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud," Jack snapped as he snatched the receiver. "Shut up and listen. This is General O'Neill. Colonel Carter and I are trapped in the elevator between levels 28 and 29. You will, with no unnecessary conversation on the matter, get off your ass and go find someone to get us the hell out of here. Is that understood?" Jack slammed down the receiver and resumed his repetition with annoyance.

"That was a little harsh, Sir, don't you think?"

"No no no no NO no no no no."

"I'm sure they'll have us out in no time, General, but in the meantime, that could really get annoying."

"It helps me stop talking. No no no no no no no."

"Ahh, I see. You're infected, but talking is like torture for _you_. Hmm. Interesting! You know, if Dr. Brightman finds a cure, this virus could well become the most important advance to come out of the SGC. Imagine the applications! Interrogations would become a thing of the past. There'd be no danger of the type of thing that happened at Abu Ghraib. You just release the virus on the suspect and wait for them to spill their guts. There don't appear to be any serious side effects. This could be revolutionary. I wonder if it would work on the Goa'uld. Generally, the symbiote is immune to viruses, but you never know. I wonder how we could test that."

"Carter!" His voice brought her train of thought to a halt. "You are babbling."

"I resent that, Sir. Babbling would imply that I was unaware of what I was saying, or unable to stick to a topic. I know precisely what I'm saying, and I would think it would be of interest to you."

Jack studied her carefully. "You're right, Carter. The Goa'uld are a safe topic. Tell me your theories about how we might test it."

"A safe topic? As opposed to what? Oh! You don't want to talk about you and me. Or is it 'you and I'? You're actually better with grammar than I am. I never think about whether I end sentences with prepositions. Why do you try to hide your intelligence, Sir? That's the one thing I've never understood about you."

"The one thing?" Jack blurted.

Sam looked as thoughtful as someone babbling could manage. "Yes, I think so. I understand you pretty well. You were a big puzzle to me at first, but you know how I react to a puzzle. I just have to keep at it until I have it solved. I think that's why I first..." Sam gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth, in hopes he wouldn't hear the rest of the sentence she couldn't help but say. Removing her hand when she finished, she added, "I think I'm infected, Sir."

"What was your first clue?"

"This is terrible."

"Tell me about it. I was trying to find a place to hide when we got stuck here."

"Hide?"

"From anyone else who wanted to talk about you."

"Oh!" Sam exclaimed as Jack resumed chanting. "Does that really help?"

Jack nodded his head in the affirmative, even while he chanted, "No no no no no no no." Sam joined in the chanting. After a few minutes, Jack asked, "Carter, could you try to synchronize your no's with mine? You're throwing me off."

"You have no rhythm to your chant. How am I supposed to keep up?"

"Hey! I have rhythm. I just like to vary it a little. Break up the monotony."

"All the same..."

"Maybe we could try using the tune to a song. Do you know the theme to Love Boat?"

Sam nodded. "You start."

"No NO noooo, no-no no-NO-no no-no-no-noooo." After three rousing choruses of Love Boat, Sam caught Jack's eye and the giggling began.

"Hey, no giggling! No no no no no no no no..."

Sam swiped at her eyes. "I can't help it. You must see the humor in this situation."

"No no no no - NO I don't - no no no no no..." he replied, setting Sam off again. He glared at her intently, consciously trying that non-verbal communication technique Teal'c had brought to his attention.

"Why do you hate it so much when I laugh?" Sam asked, trying to pull herself together.

"Who said that?"

"You always order me to stop."

"Not because I hate it. I love your laugh." Jack rolled his eyes at his own weakness. "Carter, you have to stop asking me questions. I am not responsible for what I say right now."

"You aren't responsible?" There was a very dangerous twinkle in Sam's eye. "Sir, what happened during the time loop?"

"Oh, no, you don't! I've been taken advantage of enough today. No! No no no no no. Alright, I kissed you. But I resigned first!"

"That's all? You just kissed me? I thought it had to be something worse than that, the way you wouldn't stop smirking at me for days."

"Yeah, but it was one hell of a dramatic kiss. Right there in the control room, in front of God, General Hammond, and all those witnesses. I went for maximum effect. It was hysterical. You would have loved it."

"Hysterical? Kissing me was _funny_?" She didn't know whether to be baffled or affronted.

"The shock value! The sputtering General. The astounded onlookers. Yeah, it was funny. It was great, too. You..." It was Jack's turn to clamp his hand over his mouth. "Damn you, Carter. That wasn't fair. Now you have to tell me something in return."

"No no no no no no..." she chanted in reply.

"Carter, I order you to 'fess up to something embarrassing."

"You can't order me to do that!"

"I just did!"

"Fine. I've kissed you, too."

Carter almost started laughing again as he scrunched up his face in confusion. "How is that possible?"

"Sometimes when you're unconscious in the infirmary, I kiss your forehead and tell you to snap out of it. It's become something of a superstition for me."

"Really!"

"Well, it worked the first time."

"I think I feel faint. I may slip into unconsciousness."

"Very funny, Sir."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Jack realized Teal'c was definitely right about that communication thing. Turning away, they both resumed the chant.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Jack muttered amidst a flurry of no's.

"I'm sure they're doing their best," Carter replied, interrupting her chant.

Jack looked at his watch. "I could be watching the Simpsons right now."

"You'd be watching CNN."

Jack looked at her in surprise. "Are you and Daniel spying on me?"

Sam shrugged. "We're just more observant than you give us credit for."

"You just ended as sentence with a preposition."

"Sorry."

"I do watch the Simpsons."

"I know. Actually, I've grown to like the show myself."

"You watch it? What else don't I know about you?"

"That's a dangerous question, Sir. You wouldn't be trying to take advantage of my condition, would you?"

"No no no no no no no no no."

Except for the monosyllabic recitation, silence prevailed for several minutes. Jack paced, fidgeted, stewed, and sighed. "Carter, I can't take it anymore. I have to talk to you."

Sam looked at him with apprehension. She was just as nervous about opening doors that couldn't be closed again as he could possibly be. She wondered if she should try to stop him. She opened her mouth, but too late.

Jack took a deep breath and began speaking rapidly. "The Simpsons has really gone down hill in the last three years. I don't enjoy it nearly as much as I used to, but I'm glad the earlier seasons are coming out on DVD. I look after the old lady next door and her cats, and I pay a neighborhood kid to look in on them when I'm not around. I really wish you would give hockey a chance. I'm possibly the only person on the planet in possession of a Y-chromosome who does not like The Godfather Trilogy. Even Daniel likes it, for cryin' out loud. I do subscribe to Mad Magazine, but I also subscribe to Smithsonian, National Geographic, Newsweek, and Popular Mechanics -- and I read them all, too. My parents used to call me Jacky-boy, which made me absolutely nuts. Iguanas make my skin crawl. I'm actually growing to like the desk job -- how sick is that? And Walter really _is_ like Radar O'Reilly."

"Sir, why are you telling me all this?"

"The chanting just isn't working for me anymore. And..." He paused, fighting against the words and losing. "I want you to know me."

Sam's expression was direct and meaningful as she replied, "I know you."

Jack returned the look, the full weight of its implication exchanged.

"My brother Mark used to call me Samzilla," she began, "because everywhere I went I left things in pieces. I used to call him Marky de Sade, because -- well, that's self-explanatory really. I couldn't get a date in high school, I think all the boys were scared of me. I lie about not being able to cook so I don't have to. After my mother died, I did most of the cooking, and I'm just tired of it. If you force me to take downtime, I end up watching Lifetime movies, painting my nails, and eating ice cream, which is why I hate to do it -- bad for my figure. Oh, and Teal'c got me completely hooked on this ridiculous show -- it's called What Not to Wear."

"I watch it."

"You're kidding!"

"And the British version, too."

"There's an American version?"

"Come over and watch." He knew he should regret the words, but he couldn't.

Sam's expression became serious. "When you were in stasis after the Ancient knowledge took you over, I used to sleep in your quarters sometimes."

"When you were stranded on Prometheus, I did the same."

"I hallucinated you, in this great blue shirt. We kissed."

"Wish I could've been there for that."

"I was happier as Thera."

"I was happier as Jonah. I'm too old for you."

"You're not."

"Since you took over SG-1, I've learned to pray again."

They could hear the noise of the repair crew just outside. "We'll have you out in a minute, Sir," someone called.

Jack grabbed Sam by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. "Don't get married."

He released her and she slipped her hand reassuringly into his. "Yes, Sir."

With one eye on the door, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. As the doors slid open, they separated. "I know you," he whispered.

Sam smiled and whispered back. "I know you, too."


End file.
